


21 Minutes

by SerotoninUp



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Feels, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Light Angst, Lucifer (TV) Season/Series 02, Missing Scene, Post-Episode: s02e11 Stewardess Interruptus, Pre-Episode: s02e12 Love Handles, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25008358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerotoninUp/pseuds/SerotoninUp
Summary: After their first kiss on the beach, Lucifer and Chloe had a 21-minute phone call. How did that conversation go?
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Trixie Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 32
Kudos: 190





	21 Minutes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [venividivictorious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venividivictorious/gifts), [MoanDiary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/gifts), [onlymostlydead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlymostlydead/gifts), [TanMt](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=TanMt).



Lucifer made it all the way back to LUX before the high of kissing the Detective wore off and the panic began to set in.

He waved away the valet and parked his car in the underground garage. After he shut the engine off, he simply sat there, staring at the concrete wall in front of him and replaying the moment over and over again.

The kiss had been completely unexpected. And Chloe’s lips were so soft, and her hand against his cheek so gentle. He’d hardly dared to touch her, afraid she might come to her senses and run away at any moment.

But she hadn’t. She’d kissed him, not once but _twice,_ and afterwards she hadn’t said, “This was a mistake,” or “This could never work.” She’d just smiled shyly at him and said she’d see him at the precinct tomorrow, and then bid him goodbye and walked away. Halfway up the beach, she’d turned and waved to him, still smiling, and a brilliant warmth had swelled in his chest, as if he’d swallowed a sunrise.

He’d given her a whole litany of reasons why he didn’t deserve her. He’d told her she deserved someone who actually appreciated the momentous efforts she put into parenting her offspring, who saw past her tough-as-nails facade to the vulnerable heart hidden beneath, who paid attention to all the little details about her that made her so unique. And who was he to give her those things—a nightclub owner whose life was a non-stop party, who no doubt caused her more trouble than he was actually worth, and who was the _actual Devil_ besides?

No. She deserved much better than him. And he’d explained all of that to her, and she’d kissed him anyway.

It didn’t make any sense.

Lucifer shook his head and climbed out of the car, taking the elevator directly to the penthouse. He knew he should check on LUX first, but the Detective had made a confused whirlwind of his thoughts with her strange behavior, and he needed quiet, a place to be alone and just think.

Once inside the penthouse, he tossed his jacket over a barstool and poured himself a drink, downed it in one go, refilled it, and drained that one, too. Then he wandered over to the couch and collapsed against the soft leather cushions.

Perhaps she was ill. Sickness did strange things to humans, after all. Or she’d been working too hard, and the exhaustion prevented her from thinking straight.

Or was she jealous of all his past lovers she’d interviewed? She’d certainly seemed a bit aggressive at times in the interrogation room. Maybe she’d just wanted a small taste of “the best night of my life” for herself, wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

That thought hurt a little bit, and Lucifer rubbed a hand against the subtle ache in his chest. Thanks to those dozens of interviews, he knew most of his past lovers hadn’t cared about him personally; they had only used him to scratch an itch. The idea that Chloe had kissed him for the same reason made his stomach twist unpleasantly.

He groaned, frustrated, and let his head fall back against the edge of the couch. Sitting here and allowing his imagination to torment him would get him nowhere. Perhaps he should call Dr. Linda and ask her advice. What would she tell him to do?

_Talk to her._ He heard the doctor’s voice in his head, as plain as if she stood beside him.

Right. If he wanted to know why Chloe had kissed him, he needed to just call her up and ask her. His pulse quickened as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He stared at it as if it might suddenly grow fangs and bite him.

“This is ridiculous,” he scolded himself. “I’m the Devil. The Devil doesn’t get nervous about phone calls.”

He brought up his call log and tapped the Detective’s name. A shiver ran through him as the phone began to ring.

“Hey, Lucifer.”

Chloe picked up almost immediately, and she sounded a bit breathless. Lucifer momentarily flattered himself that she was as nervous to talk after their kiss as he was. But that was a ridiculous notion. She’d initiated the kiss, after all, with a surety and confidence that left him awestruck. Why should she be nervous?

What if she regretted kissing him?

Lucifer attempted nonchalance and failed spectacularly. “Detective!” he exclaimed, his voice strained and higher-pitched than usual. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m—I’m fine,” she said. Something clattered in the background. “One sec.”

A series of rustling noises followed, and then Lucifer heard Chloe’s voice, curiously muffled. “Monkey, _please_ go brush your teeth and get your pajamas on.”

The child’s response was too faint to make out, and Lucifer waited while mother and daughter bickered back and forth. From what he could make out of Chloe’s side of the conversation, the child was trying to bargain for more TV time and a later bedtime. The Detective, of course, was having none of it, and soon the child’s complaints faded into the distance, presumably in the direction of her bedroom.

More rustling, and then Chloe spoke again, her voice clear this time. “Sorry, Trixie’s decided to be difficult tonight. Can this wait until tomorrow?”

The last thing he wished to do was inconvenience her, and yes, they’d see each other tomorrow, so this conversation could probably wait. But the thought of spending the rest of the night playing guessing games with himself made his stomach sink and his throat tighten.

“Just five minutes of your time, Detective?” Lucifer implored.

She sighed. There was a soft thump, and then the background sounds grew louder. Lucifer heard a television playing cartoons, and a series of clinks and splashes that sounded like dishes being washed in the sink.

“Okay, Lucifer. I’ve got you on speaker,” Chloe said, her voice slightly fainter. “What’s up?”

Now or never. Lucifer’s grip tightened around the phone, and the fingers of his other hand drummed a frantic rhythm against the arm of the sofa. “I wanted to talk about our—our kiss earlier.”

_“Your what?!”_

Lucifer winced and withdrew the phone from his ear as the sudden shriek exploded through the air, so shrill and loud that it seemed to pierce straight through his brain.

“Hello, offspring,” Lucifer sighed.

“Trixie, why aren’t you in your pajamas?” Chloe demanded.

“Did you kiss my mom?” the child yelled, sounding positively delighted.

Lucifer chuckled over Chloe’s sudden groan, as if she already knew what he would say next.

“Your mother kissed _me,_ urchin,” he said, and that rush came over him again, the thrill of having actually kissed the Detective.

“I knew it! I knew you liked him, mommy!” the child crowed, and euphoric warmth surged through him once more. The Detective _liked_ him. He never thought he’d be so grateful for one of the little urchin’s raucous outbursts.

“Beatrice Espinoza, go get ready for bed. Right. Now.” Chloe’s words took on a hard edge, one Lucifer recognized. It was the same voice she used to chastise him whenever she thought he had jeopardized a case, and he responded instinctively to it, sitting up straighter on the couch and taking a deep breath to calm his racing pulse.

A patter of footsteps suggested the child had finally run off to do as she was told. Chloe sighed, and the sound of dishes being scrubbed resumed.

“You wanted to talk about our kiss?” she asked.

Lucifer’s heart stuttered in his chest.

“I—yes,” he said. “Yes. I just have a question for you, Detective.”

She hummed, an amused sound, and he easily pictured the small smile accompanying it. “I’m listening.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

She scoffed at the question, a sound of pure incredulity. “Are you serious, Lucifer?”

“Yes?” Was she angry with him? Was his question that unreasonable?

A moment of silence passed. Lucifer held his breath. He heard a tap squeaking, followed by the susurration of running water.

“You know,” she finally said, “For a guy with hundreds of partners, I would have thought you’d know by now why people kiss each other.”

_Oh._ She was teasing him. “Very funny, Detective,” he pouted.

“Sorry,” she laughed. “I just wasn’t expecting you of all people to have a crisis of confidence.”

“I’m not having a crisis,” Lucifer protested, but even he could hear how weak his denial sounded. He found himself on his feet, his free hand pressed against the window, staring out at the twinkling city lights. Every nerve ending in his body jangled like a live wire. How did she always manage to aim so unerringly at the heart of his vulnerabilities?

“Lucifer.” Her voice turned soft, soothing, no longer poking fun at him. “I kissed you because I like you. Because I wanted to. Okay?”

Lucifer swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. _Because she wanted to._ “Okay.”

She wanted to kiss him. She _desired_ it. Lucifer shuddered, overwhelmed. His charms, his mojo, they didn’t work on her. He had no way to draw out her desires, no way of knowing whether she spoke the truth. And right now, in the moment, he didn’t care. The Detective— _his_ Detective—desired him, and that knowledge filled him with a joy and lightness he hadn’t felt since…

Well. Since before his Fall.

Behind him, the elevator dinged, and Lucifer took a second to silently curse the universe and its forever-terrible timing.

“Boss?”

It was Patrick’s voice, that single word laced with a tightness that meant he was about to relay something unpleasant.

“One moment, Detective,” Lucifer said into the phone. He muted the call, not wanting to risk her overhearing anything that might upset her, then gritted his teeth and turned toward the bartender. “Yes?”

Whatever expression Lucifer wore on his face, it made Patrick take a step back, his eyes wide. “We got a situation downstairs, boss.”

“What kind of situation?”

Patrick swallowed. “Just a guy causing problems for some of the ladies.”

“Ah.” Lucifer didn’t appreciate creeps to begin with, and this particular reprobate preying on his patrons downstairs was interrupting a very important phone call. “I will be down shortly.”

Patrick nodded, quickly making himself scarce. Lucifer sighed and lifted the phone to his ear once more.

“Detective?”

“Lucifer? Is everything okay?” Chloe asked. 

“Sorry. Just one of my employees,” Lucifer said. “Apparently there’s a matter downstairs that requires my attention.”

“Oh, okay, yeah. You should go deal with that,” she said. Lucifer couldn’t help the flutter in his belly at the clear disappointment in her tone, that spark of joy that lit up within him once more as he realized that she didn’t want the call to end. She wanted to keep talking to him.

“I still have to finish these dishes and read Trixie a story anyway,” she continued.

“Of course. Well, if you have to hang up, Detective, don’t let me detain you further.”

She sighed, but there was an edge of amusement in her voice when she spoke. “Lucifer, I’m up to my elbows in soap suds right now. If you need to go check on LUX, go ahead and hang up.”

“Right,” he said, glancing toward the elevator. “I should do that.”

She hummed her agreement. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Tomorrow.”

“Good night, Lucifer.”

“Good night, Detective,” he said.

But still, he didn’t hang up. He listened as she scrubbed, dried, and put away the remaining dishes, finding something oddly calming in those simple, domestic sounds. He heard her call out for the child, her voice nearly inaudible. She must have walked away from the kitchen and left the phone on the counter. And still, he found himself unable to end the call, some small part of him hoping she’d return.

A minute or two passed, and then there was a scraping sound. The background noises disappeared, and he thought for a moment that the call had cut out. But then he heard soft breathing, and realized the call had simply been taken off speakerphone.

“Lucifer?” a tiny voice whispered.

Lucifer wordlessly reprimanded himself. The child had found her mother’s phone, with him still lurking on the line like some unwelcome voyeur.

“Lucifer, are you there?”

He sighed. “Yes, urchin. Where’s your mother?”

The child giggled. “She’s in the bathroom brushing her teeth.”

“Lovely,” Lucifer commented. As fascinating as the Detective’s oral habits might be (and _that_ was a thought he’d certainly be contemplating later), he really did need to deal with the situation downstairs. “Unfortunately, I must go, offspring. Enjoy your story.”

“Wait!” the child said, somehow managing to shout at him while still keeping her voice at a whisper. “I have a question, too.”

What juvenile shenanigans were these? “Go on, then.”

Her voice turned solemn. “Do you have a crush on my mom?”

Lucifer’s first instinct was to deny it. He was the Devil, after all. The Devil didn’t _do_ silly crushes. That was strictly a human thing—just one more inconvenient, confusing aspect of life on earth that he could easily do without, thank you very much.

But apparently his time with humanity had rubbed off on him, because he knew that if he said no, if he claimed no affection for the Detective, it would be an obvious lie. And that was something the Devil definitely didn’t do.

“I like your mother very much, Beatrice,” he finally admitted. Saying the words out loud felt like an irreversible step forward, like the first blow of a sledgehammer against a crumbling stone wall. Somehow, the Detective had already slipped through the cracks, made herself a home inside the heart he’d guarded so carefully, for so long, that he’d almost been convinced he didn’t have one anymore.

“Good,” the child whispered, and Lucifer couldn’t help the small smile that slid across his face at that word, or the warmth that bloomed in his chest. At least the urchin—the most important person in the Detective’s life—seemed to approve of him, even if nobody else did.

Even if he, himself, didn’t.

“Trixie!” The Detective was back, definitely somewhere close by, and definitely irritated.

“Oops,” the child laughed. “Gotta go. Bye, Lucifer!”

The call ended.

Lucifer stared at the phone for a moment, the smile still playing at the corner of his mouth. Then, with a sigh, he tucked it into his pocket and headed toward the elevator.

Time to go downstairs and dole out some well-deserved punishment.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a screenshot of Lucifer's call log in s02e12 which shows that he and Chloe had a 21-minute phone call after their first kiss on the beach in s02e11. Shout out to venividivictorious, MoanDiary, onlymostlydead, and TanMt—I hope I did your ideas justice!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


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